


Sever and Mend

by scepterofstardust



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Gen, SaruMi - Freeform, Sarumi Week 2017, also lots of longing gazes, please just let them be together, there's a lot of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-23 00:39:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11391750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scepterofstardust/pseuds/scepterofstardust
Summary: Saruhiko never thought he would have to watch Misaki from afar. After all, they had spent years attached at the hip. But now, he was frozen here.





	Sever and Mend

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back to drop some more small Sarumi fics, hi :)

Saruhiko had never really thought that he would have to watch Misaki from afar.

 

After all, they spent years attached at the hip. Years of spending more time at Misaki's house than his, and then sleeping in the bottom bunk, only having to walk into the kitchen to see Misaki standing at the stove making dinner. He had taken that for granted, maybe, a little too much. 

 

It was all gone, now. And yes, it was Saruhiko's fault; he wasn't ignorant to that fact. But he missed it anyhow.

 

And he wished, with all of his mangled and confused heart, that he could be close to him again. Just for a day, even.

 

And he beat himself up for making that wish, as he leaned against Reisi's car, looking down from the top of the hill. His coat was hardly warm enough for the January weather, and he could hear Misaki's voice in his head, lamenting the fact that he never took care of his health. Saruhiko shook his head and ground his jaw.

 

He hadn't wanted to come anywhere near this place. But the Blue King, with his dark circles and watery eyes, had looked like he would collapse any second, and so Fushimi had gotten in the car with him. He had been unwilling to go any closer than this, than the top of the graveyard far from the burial site. He could see the funeral procession in the distance, figures in black like a murder of crows against the snow on the ground. He could see Misaki right away, of course. He could tell it was him, shivering in his black coat, head bowed, holding Anna in his arms as they both cried. Saruhiko swallowed against the lump in his throat, and he wanted to be there, he wanted to stand next to Misaki and be able to help him. But he knew he couldn't.

 

Knew that Misaki would probably shove him away, now. For all that he had done. 

 

Knew that he had lost that right.

 

Saruhiko tore his gaze away from Misaki and turned towards the driver's seat as his King got out. Reisi walked around and paused beside Saruhiko.

 

"Are you sure?" Saruhiko didn't have to clarify what he was asking. He lifted his chin, beckoning Reisi to get on with it. It earned him a thin, amused smile. The Blue King began the long walk towards the burial site, down winding roads and lots of steps. Saruhiko watched him go, noting that the funeral procession was dissipating. He couldn't blame Reisi for not wanting to face them. He certainly would never fault him for it. 

 

Saruhiko blew out a breath and opened the passenger's side door, unable to stand in the cold anymore. He settled in and closed his eyes to wait.

 

"I'd make a comment about sleeping on the job," Reisi said when he got into the car, "but we aren't." Saruhiko jolted in his seat, raising his head.

 

"Sorry," he muttered. He hadn't realized how tired he was. Reisi started the car and glanced in the rearview mirror.

 

"I didn't say I didn't approve," Reisi amended. "I'm afraid that would be the pot calling the kettle black." Saruhiko didn't bother protesting. He knew how observant the Blue King was. Even when he himself had seen better days, he wouldn't fail to notice Saruhiko stumbling into doors and frequently having lapses in memory. He wasn't an insomniac, rather, he was just worried. He was worried for Misaki, and if he felt like admitting it for Reisi as well, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't dream about the Red King, dream about his hand being engulfed in flame and the pain. Even though he was gone.

 

He had a lot of demons chasing him, it seemed. But that wasn't anything new. 

 

Reisi pulled away from the curb, staying silent the rest of the drive.

 

* * *

 

When Saruhiko saw Misaki next, it was spring. He'd been coerced into going to get more coffee and sandwiches for the others, as they were all working late shifts and beyond exhausted from a busy week. He ordered from the scrawled list in his hand and moved out of the way, leaning on the wall to wait. He looked around the small shop, noting its occupants. Lots of students with their laptops and headphones, probably studying. A few adults with their newspapers. His eyes landed on a booth by the window, and his breath hitched. 

 

Misaki had an empty plate in front of him, his head resting against the wall. He was staring numbly out the window, his headphones in his ears. 

 

Saruhiko tensed up, an old habit, wanting to run or start a fight. But Misaki didn't see him, of course. He was relieved that he hadn't. Misaki looked peaceful, with the setting sun casting a golden glow across his face and illuminating amber eyes. A half empty soda was at his elbow. It reminded Saruhiko of their middle school days. They used to hang out in cafes just like this one. He found himself wishing that he could just stride over, could just sit down across from Misaki and have a conversation. He wished it could happen just like that. He could imagine Misaki grinning at him, snickering because Saruhiko had been roped into running errands again.

 

Saruhiko tilted his head, paying closer attention. Misaki looked better than when he had last seen him. Less breakable. Less grief-stricken. More like himself. Saruhiko caught himself smiling, just a little bit. It was good, that Misaki was healing. Even if he couldn't be there.

 

The girl behind the counter called out his order number, and he sobered, taking it from her and exiting the shop quickly. He went back to Scepter Four headquarters, back to the dark offices, but he remembered the sight of Misaki alone, the spring sun making him a living flame. 

 

* * *

 

It was summer when Saruhiko walked past the HOMRA bar. He was sweaty, and sticky, and grumpy. He loathed the heat. It made him miserable, and he always felt like he was about to spontaneously melt into a puddle. Hence, the reason why he stayed indoors. 

 

Usually, he turned to take a detour around the bar, not wanting an awkward encounter with any of its occupants. But he had been too distracted to do so. So he walked fast, head down. He had almost made it when the door flew open behind him, bell jangling. He heard a voice from inside the bar yell something about troublesome kids, and Saruhiko fought a smirk. Kusanagi didn't seem to have changed one bit. He heard footsteps, and a shout of pain.

 

"Alright, I get it!" Misaki groaned as he stepped outside. "I'm going!" Saruhiko stiffened and picked up his pace.

 

"Damn right you are!"

 

"Ah, fuck off," Misaki muttered under his breath. Saruhiko snorted.

 

"What was that?!" Kusanagi's voice went up another octave, if that was even possible.

 

"Nothing. Going." There was the flat thud of a skateboard hitting the cement, and Saruhiko ducked his head, praying he wouldn't be seen. He didn't have the energy to put up a front right now.

 

"Saru?" Misaki called out hesitantly. Saruhiko cursed quietly and turned, head lulling sideways. He allowed his stare to turn icy, a small smirk to play on his mouth.

 

"Just passing through, Misaki. No need to burn down the whole block just yet." 

 

Misaki rolled his eyes, and Saruhiko couldn't help noticing how different he looked. Older. Stronger than the uncontrollable wildfire Saruhiko had left behind.

 

But yet, some things hadn't changed. He still wore the same tank top and shorts ensemble as always, still had the same skateboard underneath his foot. Still had the same tousled red hair, headphones around his neck.

 

"Wasn't planning on it," Misaki retorted, snapping his foot down and grabbing his skateboard, hugging it against his side. "Were you?"

 

"Too much paperwork," Saruhiko replied, doing his best to hide his trepidation as Misaki strode up to him, squinting in the sunlight.

 

"I thought I was imagining things," Misaki admitted. "I've never seen you here."

 

"I must've taken a wrong turn."

 

"Must've." Misaki shifted his weight awkwardly.

 

"You know...you don't have to avoid us like the plague," he said quietly. "You don't have to avoid...me."

 

"Since when?" Saruhiko questioned incredulously. 

 

"Since...now." Misaki said, certainty in his eyes.

 

"And you're had this touching revelation because?" Saruhiko didn't believe what he was hearing. Misaki looked down at his shoes before he met Saruhiko's gaze again.

 

"I just, um..." The inky haired boy stared at him expectantly. "It's just that, after we lost Mikoto, um..." Misaki sighed, rubbing at his temple. "I've been thinking."

 

"Oh dear," Saruhiko commented flatly.

 

"Shut up, Saru, I'm serious."

 

"As you always are." Saruhiko's smirk was a little more real this time.

 

"Aish, you're annoying. All I'm saying, is that people aren't around forever, you know." Saruhiko's amused expression dissipated.

 

_Of that, he was very_ _aware._

"No, they're not."

 

"Right, so..." Misaki trailed off, scratching the back of his neck, and _was his face getting red?_ "So, we lose people and I..." The redhead visibly gulped. "I don't want to lose you, too."

 

Saruhiko didn't anticipate the sudden stinging behind his eyes, the unbearable tightness in his throat. He tried his best to harden his expression, to hide.

 

_Haven't you already?_

"What?" It came out more shocked than he meant it to.

 

"Look, Saru, just..." Misaki shook his head with a small smile. "Maybe stop in sometime, is all I'm saying. If you want to. Okay?" Saruhiko could do nothing but stare dumbfounded as Misaki walked past him and continued down the street. He was frozen in place, and he stood there for several moments, wondering if the heat had caused him to hallucinate.

 

It took him five minutes to remember where he had been going.

 

It took a week to decide he hadn't imagined it.

 

It took a month before he walked by the bar again, and timidly waved to a little girl with scarlet eyes sitting in the window.

 

It took a vicious fight, his knuckles sliced open and a cut from a blade on his cheekbone, before he opened the door, bell jingling above his head, and sat down wearily across from his best friend.

 

And even as he took the soda Misaki slid across the table, it felt unreal. That he was this close.

 

That maybe, things were changing.

 

(Misaki's smile was real enough for him, though. For now.) 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> It's okay if you pictured this as a cheesy film montage with romantic music swelling in the background. So did I.


End file.
